PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I probably fell in love with Dolly way too soon; when we first embraced at a fetish event three years before we even fucked.  She was loopy from bottoming to a hard Top and called me over. We hugged. That was it. That, combined with salivating over her provocative FetLife photographs, was enough.

She disappeared for three years then popped up unexpectedly at the beginning of this year.  She asked me if I was interested in being her Top.  My jaw dropped.  Was I being catfished? Apparently not.  At least not yet.  Winter had just begun.  There was white everywhere.  We fucked the night before our very first date.  Though our first scheduled date was postponed so she could travel to Texas for a week and cavort with an ex.  She couldn't wait for Saturday night and invited me over shortly after midnight on Saturday morning.  Yeah her pussy opened up and meowed at me right there on the patio of her second story downtown apartment!  My 52 year old cock worked just fine at 32 degrees.  I brought her back in from the cold, gripped her neck and pushed her against the wall and did with her as I pleased.  It was the best sexual experience I'd ever had with the hottest woman I'd ever stuck my cock into.  But little did I know, that was all it was. She said she enjoyed it too.  She cast her magical spell on me.   Magic, I am told, relies primarily on deception.

Over the next few weeks I learned more about her.  She was an aspiring graphic artist intent on completing her schooling at the art school.  She had a thesis to focus on and a different ex to forget about, who she'd kicked out of her apartment at the end of the year. I marveled and idolized her.  She didn't have much time for me.  I was very patient and communicated wonderfully with her.  Bestowing poetic words of affirmation, giving her gifts, offering quality time and touch. I even vacuumed her apartment for her when her stress was acute.  This was still not enough. She tried but wasn't able to communicate back any of what I hoped.  And my demands were miniscule.  I just wanted to love her.  "Yes", she replied, when I asked "Do you want me to be a part of your life?"  But her ears heard "Do you want me apart from your life?"

The night I severed ties from her I had rented a car in hopes of helping her move in with her mother after she narrowly escaped eviction.  She had no money and I had wired her $15 the night before.  But it was Friday and she didn't want to see me.  Even after completing her school work at 10pm and heading home on the trolley.  It was the second weekend in a row she canceled.  I told her I was coming over to get her some food and take care of her.  She interpreted it as me violating her boundaries.  We spoke on the phone and agreed to let things settle down and I gave her distance to focus on herself.  I assumed she did.  

A few weeks ago, on a night she had me spend with her we watched Lolita.  I teared up when the Dolly in the movie said "I'd rather go back with Quilty."  

I opened my backpack.  I had thrown in my DVD of a movie called "The Shape of Things" which is about a woman in art school whose entire thesis is deceiving a man to fall in love with her to improve himself.

One other movie I wanted her to see was (500) Days of Summer.  In that movie it's revealed that Summer was not exactly the gal our protagonist had made her out to be in his mind. But at the end of the film he meets a woman named Autumn and we're left with a glimmer of hope.

My birthday was yesterday.  The first day of Spring. I waited for something. Anything.  A simple "happy birthday" on my Facebook wall or acknowledgement of the inspirational messages I'd been sending her on messenger. The hours ticked away.  I noticed she checked Facebook. Then just after midnight I saw she had time to peruse FetLife.  I know this because she found time to befriend two new men who were gawking over her beauty.  I noticed one of the guys had his cock wrapped a twenty dollar bill. 

Note to self:  Stop telling people they are amazing when they are not. Stop loving people who won't accept your love. 

People say I have unrealistic expectations mirrored in my love of romantic comedies that'll never come true.  So why is it for me twisted indie tragedies come true, almost verbatim?  

The other movie we watched together was Quills which is about the Marquis De Sade going mad.  That's likely next.